A/N: Alright so... Seen the movie, loved the brother/sister dynamic between the two, got to thinking about them growing up, as two kids all alone, and Hansel wanting to protect his sister. This is the result. Please don't yell if I messed up some facts, I seen the movie once lol. This would take place some time before the actual movie, if y'all like it, maybe I'll make an actual story out of it. Thanks for reading, please review, and enjoy. : )

Ever since they were kids, Hansel had been far less trusting than his younger sister. Gretel just didn't understand.

She'd never understood.

It was a dangerous world the siblings lived in. And not just because of the fucking witches, or whatever other evil shit they were fighting on whatever shitty day, in whatever shitty town they happened to find themselves in.

It was the people. Gretel just couldn't wrap her brain around the fact that people could be just as evil as the things they hunted.

And people didn't have tells like the monsters did.

But Gretel… She just couldn't see it. No matter how often Hansel told her –no matter how much he begged –she refused to believe it.

A part of him loved her for that.

And a part of him hated her for it.

After killing the witch, only Hansel had realized the dire straits their parents had left them in. Two years older than his sister, he had quickly realized just how fucked they really were; how very few options they had. They were two orphaned children, alone in the world, with no skills, no money, and absolutely no future.

The orphanage they'd tried the first two months after the witch incident had been a complete and total disaster. Hansel had barely slept, taking short five or ten minute naps at odd intervals throughout the day, and only when he could be absolutely sure that Gretel was safe.

From the first day, he'd heard the older boys talking about her. How clean, and sweet, and innocent looking compared to all the other girls, who had lived in the orphanage their whole lives.

He'd heard them talking about what they wanted to do to her. What they were going to do to her if they got the chance.

So hardly a day went by when he wasn't going after one of the fucking pigs for trying to get to his sister. No matter how many times he got the shit beat out of him, no matter how many times he was caned by the Matrons, he never told Gretel why. And sweet, innocent Gretel had never understood.

But when the Head Mother had thrown eleven-year old Hansel out onto the streets, Gretel had followed. Even though she didn't understand why her brother kept getting into trouble, she'd blindly followed wherever he'd taken her.

Hansel knew the options they had. Knew how bleak they really were. Whoring themselves out on the streets of Augsburg, fighting the other street kids for enough scraps to survive another day… Or stealing whatever they could, and praying to a God Hansel didn't believe in that they wouldn't be caught, and whipped, maybe branded –or worse, lose a hand.

After a few days of starving, and absolutely no sleep, though, he'd realized that he didn't have a choice. It was his responsibility to keep her safe.

So when he found himself on his knees in a dirty alley, or bent over a table in some filthy backroom, he'd tell himself that it was okay, because Gretel had enough to eat. When he was whipped by town officials, or beaten by an angry merchant for stealing, he knew it was okay, because Gretel was safe.

Because that was his job. His only reason for living was to keep his sister safe. To keep her from knowing the shame, and humiliation that he felt every day. To keep her from the hunger, and pain that ate at him constantly.

To keep her from the absolutely brutal reality that he lived every single d ay.

And he'd succeeded for a while. For almost a year, before his sickness had finally caught up with him. He'd been feeling ill for months. His stomach would churn almost constantly, black dots dancing in front of his eyes. His hands and feet would tingle, like pins and needles dancing along his skin. And no matter how much he ate, or drank, it was never enough, the hunger and thirst nearly driving him to insanity. The cuts and bruises that littered his small, emaciated body never seemed to heal, lasting weeks before they would slowly start to heal.

It all culminated one cold, winter's morning. The morning when he tried to force himself to his feet, despite the pit in his stomach, despite the way the room had started spinning the moment he opened his eyes, despite the serious wrong feeling that was emanating from every single part of his body.

And despite Gretel's scared face, begging and pleading for her older brother to get up… He just couldn't do it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move from the small mat that served as his bed. He couldn't make his lips from the words he so desperately needed to say, to reassure Gretel that he'd be okay.

So Gretel had taken the small bit of money they had set aside for hard times (although it was hardly more than a few shillings), and managed to find an apothecary who was willing to visit the small, one-room shanty they called home.

Sugar sickness. After sticking Hansel with a needle the size of Excalibur, the elderly, hunched over, wizened little man had told them the illness had probably been building for months. Maybe longer. It was the result of too much candies and sweets, and not enough real food to counteract the sugar.

The month following the man's diagnosis was the hardest month of Hansel's life. Not because of the illness itself; that, after regular injections of the man's potions, had gradually gotten better.

It was hard, because during that month, he'd been confined to his bed, weak as a new-born babe, while his ten year old sister had slaved away for a seamstress in town, working twelve or fourteen hour days. She'd leave before the sun rose, coming back long after the sun had set, bringing back barely enough to afford his medication, and enough food to make sure Hansel got better.

And he hadn't been able to do a damn thing about it, for a whole fucking month. A month of her treating him like an infant, working her fingers to the bone, barely eating, so she could take care of him.

So after a month, he'd put an end to it. As soon as he was able to stand on his own, he'd told Gretel she was done working. The very next day, he'd gone back to the streets of Augsburg, back to his old means of supporting his sister.

And that was their life, until Hansel turned thirteen. When he'd started to fill out, gaining almost a foot in height, and nearly fifty pounds of muscle, his previous… clients… had no use for him anymore. So he'd found work with a band of mercenaries, agreeing to do whatever odd jobs that needed doing in return for feeding and training him.

Of course, they hadn't expected him to bring his eleven year old sister along with him. But they'd taken a liking to the siblings spunk, and they'd trained her too.

From there, it'd been a short step to witch-hunting. A surprisingly short step, when Hansel thought back on it.

Which he never, ever did, he thought roughly, rolling over on the uncomfortable floor, and sliding one hand under his head. After twenty years of killing monsters, he'd trained himself to not think about those first few years after their parents had abandoned them.

And he sure as fuck didn't have nightmares about the shit.

"Hansel?"

He groaned when he heard his sister's voice above him. "Go to sleep, Gretel."

"What's bothering you?" She asked, her voice soft, as she peered over the edge of the bed, her eyes showing her concern.

"Nothing. Indigestion. Now go to sleep."

"But you're not sleeping."

"Because I'm the older brother," He said roughly, rolling over onto his side as he slid further back against the wall.

"Do you need something to eat?"

"Go to sleep."